


Piggyback

by RoarinxRory



Category: Heroes (TV), Horrible Bosses (Movies)
Genre: Lil bit of violence that comes with your fave serial killers, M/M, Origin Story, Post-HB2, kinda silly
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-03-25
Updated: 2017-03-25
Packaged: 2018-10-10 10:29:50
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,715
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10435695
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/RoarinxRory/pseuds/RoarinxRory
Summary: Rex is in jail since that tends to happen when a person murders his father. Sylar happens to be passing through.The story of how Sylar meets Rex and is subsequently stuck with him.





	

**Author's Note:**

> //Origin story! This is kinda the "main" way that these two met up, so unless I have a separate note, my fics of Rex and Sy are probably in the same timeline as this. No smut this time around, but stay tuned! Hahaha. Thanks so much for reading. --Rory

Rex Hanson isn't a very good criminal. He cries too easily, and he’s a target around the jailhouse to beat up. He’s obnoxious and arrogant, and he thinks he owns everyone because of his previous fortune. All of these things considered, he's still far enough off his rocker to concern prison guards when he's found sitting in the mess hall by himself, spinning a gun between nimble fingers. So he killed his father and tried to frame three guys for it. That doesn't make him crazy!

What does make him crazy, however, is the twitching smile he wears as he threatens to waltz up to the warden and shoot him in the face if he doesn't get some apple pie. The acquisition of his shiny, new toy was easy. A patrol discovered him crumpled in his cell with a black eye, bloody nose, and busted lip. He clambered to the bars, begging to get away from his cellmate, who was adamant that Rex was “an insane motherfucker who beat the shit out of himself.” The patrol, clearly believing Rex over his cellmate, helped him to his feet and started to escort him to the nurse, but the convict elbowed the patrol and broke his nose, swiping his weapon in the process. He then decided that he was in the mood for a snack.

“Helloooo?” he drags out the ending vowel with a little tune of impatience. “Is anyone going to get me that pie, or am I gonna have to find myself a playmate?” His friend, dubbed now as Mr. Gun, is ample motivation for the guards to not upset him.

“Mr. Hanson, please calm down--”

The man is dead before he hits the floor with a squelching thud. Rex almost looks disheartened, as if the blood splatter doesn’t reach as far as he anticipated.

“Call me Rex! I insist. Mr. Hanson was my father, and he's gone, anyways. I made sure of that,” he giggles before blowing imaginary smoke away from the gun's barrel. “I've come to eat apple pie and murder… But,” he continues, toeing the guard’s corpse, “I've kind of lost my appetite.”

Rex’s lips curl cruelly as he whips around and shouts, “Who’s next!?”

The silence in the cafeteria is so present that Rex, with much glee, can hear the trembling exhale of the young guard to his left. “What about you?” he twirls Mr. Gun. “Do you feel like dying today?” He steps forward into the guard’s space. Rex is dashing, even when he’s waving around firearms like the psychopath he is. His eyes flash fierce electric blue, his grin delightfully deranged. He’s wild with a carnal desire to just rip someone’s heart out, and if he isn’t appeased soon, he’ll follow through with it.

The guard shakes his head, his fear seeping into the surrounding air. Rex can smell it like a shark. “It wouldn’t hurt,” Rex soothes, “if I hit you right here.” He taps a spot on the guard’s forehead, inciting a flinch and whimper. The guy is terrified out of his mind, on the verge of tears.

Then, Rex explodes into a fit of cackling. He bends over and slaps his knee, his face reddening with his amusement. He’s howling now, lost in his own joke. “You should have seen your face!” He nearly chokes on his own laugh. “You were all like, ‘Oh no! He’s gonna blow my brains out! I’m so scared!’ That’s gold, buddy!” His whooping goes on for a few more seconds, but he pauses in the realization that he’s by himself in his entertainment. Rex blinks with surprise.

“You guys didn’t think it was funny?” Quiet greets him. “C’mon, it was at least a little hilarious,” he attempts to reason. It seems, though, that no justification will sway them.

Rex’s usually confident smile falters for a fraction of a moment. “O-Oh. Okay then.” Something reminiscent of pain is visible for such a short time that the young guard blinks and misses it. “Well,” he resigns with a sigh of regret, “since it’s not a funny joke, I wonder what sort of face you’ll make when I tell you that I’m being serious.”

The guard tenses. His petrified gaze flickers between Rex’s eyes and the gun, neither of which give him comfort. Mr. Gun nears and eventually comes to a rest against the guard’s temple. Beads of sweat dripping over him, the guard prepares for the inevitable. He screws his eyes closed and pushes his head forward.

“Bang bang,” murmurs Rex, forefinger poised on the trigger.

An empty click resounds, hollow and utterly disappointing. Rex pulls the trigger again in a panic. “What?” he mutters to himself in perplexion. “Wh-Why aren’t you…” the light leaves Rex. “Why aren’t you fucking dead yet?!?” He growls lowly and smacks the pistol with his palm, tries to fire at something, anything to no avail. He shoots at the young guard, and then he shoots at another guard, and then there’s another, and then he tries the floor. Nothing’s working, and frustrated, Rex fires at the ceiling. He doesn’t necessarily expect all of the lights to shut off, shrouding the party in darkness. He lets out a squeal of shock, though he will try to pass it off as relief that his gun is finally operating.

“Stop that.”

Rex overflows with wonder. A giddiness festers in him, and Rex is so excited. He whirls around to face a tall stranger. Eyebrow Man, Rex wants to call him. There’s so much fascination about Rex that he can’t resist leaning in and studying the stranger.

“How did you…?” Rex trails off. He crookedly beams at Eyebrow Man.

“Get away from me,” the stranger squints.

Rebelliously, Rex places a hand on the stranger’s chest. There’s strength there, chiseled muscle that Rex admires without concealment. “What’s your name?” he inquires, fire dancing on his lips, silver on his tongue.

The stranger knows he shouldn’t indulge this peculiar character, but he feels the need to humor him. He says it simply, evenly. “My name is Sylar.”

Irrationally pleased with himself, Rex bats his eyelashes and repeats the name. “Hi, Sylar,” he hums. He likes the way it feels in his mouth, how it flows. “I’m Rex.” It’s but a whisper on the wind, smug in its owner’s allure. For Sylar’s pride, Rex doesn’t show that he hears a hitch in the other’s breath.

“I should kill you,” Sylar admits.

In response, Rex muses into Sylar’s ear, “But are you going to?”

Sylar hisses at the proximity and recoils. He doesn’t need to worry about Rex. Rex isn’t who he broke into jail for. The young guard, on the other hand, still rattling in his shoes, is a different story. Flawless aim, he has, and Sylar wants it. He wants to slice open the guard’s skull and sink his teeth into that delicious ability. He’s about to when the noise of a bullet cuts through his concentration. Somewhere in the cafeteria, Sylar detects the clatter of a rifle hitting tile and the sick thump of another guard biting the dust.

Rex is desperate for Sylar’s attention to turn back to him, so he takes care of a potential threat. Sylar finishes with the young guard quickly enough, as well, bringing the former bounding to him. “Take me with you,” Rex hopes. His eyes are wide and shimmer despite the shadows.

Sylar is scoffing, wiping blood off into a napkin. “Why would I do that?”

“You’re amazing,” Rex explains, as if it’s so obvious. “I’ve never seen anything like you. What you can do… You’re so fantastic.”

He’s already gotten what he came for, Sylar convinces himself, and he has no use for Rex. Rex is just a child of a man. He’s annoying, Sylar thinks. He invades Sylar’s personal space and has no regard for how powerful Sylar truly is. His eyes are too blue, and his teeth are too white. He’s too pretty, and his simper is freakishly endearing, no matter its degree of irritating. He’s charming, even when he's got somebody else’s blood on his face, and he makes Sylar feel good about himself, and Sylar knows that he’s in big trouble.

Sylar doesn't remember how it happens or when, but his lips form the word “fine” before he can catch himself.

Rex flings himself toward Sylar with a whoop of joy and interlocks their arms. He's practically vibrating in his eagerness. He's like a damn dog, Sylar thinks fleetingly before shaking him off.

Before they even set foot out of California State Prison, Rex is badgering Sylar, “Where’re we goin’, Sy?” The question is repeated at least five times over the sounds of guards screaming. Upon liberation at last, Rex bounces at his own wonderful suggestion of, “Ooh! I know! Let's go to the zoo.” He waves his hands in the air with enthusiasm as he details exactly how far away the San Diego Zoo is and how long it will take to get there if they drop by his house and get his phone first. “Or we could go to the aquarium? Do you like dolphins? We could swim with dolphins.” He climbs onto Sylar’s back as he rambles, clinging like some sort of murderous koala bear. As the serial killer swats at him in confusion, Rex evades the batting hands and wraps his arms around Sylar’s neck. “Do you have like a hotel room or something? We can stay at my place, but I'm not sure how well my cousin has been taking care of it. See, she got it after I killed my dad and got tossed into the slammer.”

Sylar bristles with agitation. His arms are swinging normally as they can at his sides, sending a very clear signal that he will take no part in helping Rex stay on his back. “Okay, first thing, get the fuck off me.”

Rex promptly scrunches up his nose in distaste and scolds, “Wow, Sy, you have a shitty ass potty mouth.”

“Second thing, my name is Sylar.”

“Yeah. I know.” Rex quirks his brow as if Sylar is making some completely ludicrous claim. He has still yet to leave the comfort of Sylar’s back. In fact, he doesn't plan to leave the comfort of Sylar at all.


End file.
